


Sakaarii Delicacy (Grandmaster/Reader)

by e_n_silvermane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Other, Possibly Out of Character, because as we all know I'm trash for the Grandmaster, if you like imagery and description this is for you!, intricate storyline, read and see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_n_silvermane/pseuds/e_n_silvermane
Summary: Sakaar, like any planet, was once new.And The Grandmaster, like anybody else, was once alone--until he met her.Several million years later, he reunites rather unexpectedly with his once-best-friend's ancestral daughter, (Y/N) (L/N). (It's a small world, after all.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The summary makes it sound a lot more complex than what I've written here, haha! I just want to know if you guys think I should continue it. I've spent a little while writing it and I definitely like the idea, but what do you think?  
> I hope you like this installment of "weird fic ideas Liza has at 1:00 in the morning"!

Sakaar, the junk planet. What a nice place to spend a Sunday afternoon. Was it a Sunday? Was it even an afternoon? Who knew. Certainly not (Y/N), who was hidden under the tarp of her stand, fanning her face and shooing away flies from her items-for-sale. One thing was for sure: with this heat, the coming summer was definitely going to be strong.  
Trinkets such as Sakaarii jade and sapphire cased in silver and gold were hung from the splitting grey beams on her little cart, glittering cheerfully alongside their Bekkan opal and brightleaf amberyth cousins, despite the dustiness of the little stone alley she was in. Even though it was quite dim, it was one of the better populated areas within The Grandmaster’s plaza, and already she’d seen thousands upon thousands of people rush by. One or two had stopped to look at the fine jewelry she had for sale. Mostly, though, she had younger customers, Sakaarii children and their caretakers, buying the treats she had in stock. The treats, which she had been inspired by the Earth-humans to make, were bright pops of color--gentle pink fruits called arlidots with a slightly-modified Earthen recipe for something called… eh… ca-ra-mel. Something like that. She still wasn’t sure how to pronounce it, but she did know that it was supposed to be very delicious, and judging from the looks on those happy little faces smeared with bright red arlidot juice and gold rojandensl dusting from her special caramel recipe, she had succeeded greatly in her efforts. Today wouldn’t make her rich, but it would certainly be a heavy penny in the pocket.  
Today, today--speaking of today: the reason that there were so many people out and about in the streets (especially children, who were generally taken care of indoors and away from the dangers of the world) was because The Grandmaster was having another celebration, or something of the like. (Y/N) wasn’t sure. Either way, it meant more business for her. So good on him for being such a lively person at his age, however old he was--which must have been very.  
Tapping on her lips lightly, (Y/N) considered the thought of the Grandmaster. He certainly was self-absorbed, she knew, and a hedonist at that--not a good mix for the lower class to behold, but for the richer, sure, why not? That wasn’t all. No, there was something lingering in those hazel-gold eyes, she was sure of it. Whether it was a prepared solemn scolding for anyone who dared to disobey him or a memory of otherworldly annihilation, something heavy weighed there in his mind, in the furthest, darkest corner. It was a wonder she could see it at all--her people had been granted a strange amount of empathic ability, but this-this thing, whatever it was that troubled him behind centuries and centuries of mind-numbing, laughable pleasure, it was hard to keep a hold on. Whether she should be laiden with disgust for his tyranny or sorrowful and sympathetic for a possible loss, (Y/N) didn’t know. The Grandmaster was a fascinating creature for her to behold, though. And so she considered.  
There was a tug on her skirt, and she looked down to see a little boy, holding up a coin.  
“Hello there.” She tucked a loose strand of hair underneath her head scarf and bent down to his level. “What would you like for that shilling?”  
“An arlidot, please!” He chirped happily, blue skin glowing with his bright enthusiasm.  
While she sunk a rather ripe arlidot onto a spearstick and spun it around in the golden caramel sauce, (Y/N) made idle conversation with her little customer. He seemed to be of her people’s descent, and as far as she knew there weren’t many of them left. Most had either left Sakaar, or died trying. Quite bold, they were. Perseverant. She wasn’t exactly sure how they’d come upon a junk planet like this one. Her mother, the storyteller, hadn’t liked to speak of those days, and so she remained blissfully unknowing of her ancestors’ private agony.  
“Your skin! It’s pretty!” The boy spoke enthusiastically and stutteringly, pointing at her hand. She guessed he’d never seen anyone like her, either, though they were very similar in their appearance. Comparing herself to him, she could see the high cheekbones, the broad rib cage and slender waist, thin legs, thin hands… it was such a shame they didn’t speak quite the same dialect. She would have liked to meet his family, but halting as his words were to her, she knew they wouldn’t be particularly happy to talk with a loner Veneik who could barely understand a word they spoke.  
“So is yours.” Smiling gently, she took hold of his pale blue hand, and where her rose violet one met it, their skin color mingled and swirled into a deep lavender.  
His eyes grew wide with realization. “Veneik?”  
“Veneik.” She nodded, and handed him his candied fruit. “Have a nice day, young man. Many stars.”  
He took hold of his treat with a gleeful expression. “Many stars! Thank you!”  
Adoringly, she watched him run off with his little friends. How nice it would be to have a family of my own, she thought to herself with a wistful smile. I miss the little ones.  
“Interesting,” came a voice from in front of her. Startled, she jumped a little, and was taken aback at the figure standing in the dim alleyway. Suddenly, a dull hush went through the crowd, as if everybody noticed who was there at the same time she did. Whispers ran between people. Is that really him? What’s he doing in this district?  
(Y/N) took in a silent breath to calm herself, and she bowed as gracefully as she could. “Your Highness, The Grandmaster--to what do I owe the pleasure?”  
He was awfully funny-looking, though she would surely be melted alive if she said that out loud. The blue stripe striking downward from his lip caught her eye as he smiled good-naturedly and said,  
“Oh, so formal, so formal. Well, you see, I heard--” he gestured to the alley and the plaza behind it, “--I heard that you were selling these… these… delectable little goodies here. I thought, uh, I thought I might try one. You know. Just to see.” Was that a wink? Of course it was.  
“Certainly,” She said, spearing a particularly plump arlidot and began to spin it in the caramel tin she had.  
“Oh! And one for my friend here, Topaz, too. Almost forgot.” Ah, that smile. She knew the cruelties of a megalomaniac such as him, but his smile was nearly handsome enough to make her forget all that. Well, the red-hued robes adorned with gold embroidery helped some too. She vaguely wondered how many universal decimations those eyes had seen as she flicked edible rojandensl--as the Sakaarii called it, goldleaf--over the still-setting caramel.  
“Here you are, my king. A little sparkle for your sweetness.” Good lord, if he could sense even slight sarcasm, she was already dead.  
“Aw, Topaz, look at that! Veneiks are always so nice to us, aren’t they?” The Grandmaster seemed pleased with the little delicacies, and so presented (Y/N) with an enormous gold coin she had only seen once before in her life. It was worth nearly half of her life savings, and as she gawked at it in her palm and heard him laughing to himself, she wondered if he was tricking her somehow.  
“Keep the change. I, uh, I might be back.” Another wink, and he airily glided off, munching happily on his arlidot fruit. Topaz followed him with an almost-imperceptible noise of discontent, nibbling at hers so to please him and hopefully not get melted.

That was the first time she’d met the Grandmaster.

The second time, she was in the same district, by her same stand, selling Pelanese moonsilt malts. Another recipe from which she drew Earthen inspiration--but only in name were these things anything like malts. The moonsilt had a very soothing, smooth and powdery texture on the tongue, sweeter than most edible gemstones she’d had the privilege of using in her meals, and mixed with the right amount of prulem juice (which was the most acidic juice in any fruit that could be grown on Sakaar), it frothed up into a wonderful, light whip that was as delicious as any dessert. And they were selling faster than they usually did, given that summer was starting to rear its ugly head and the heat was indeed sweltering.  
Sighing and lightly fanning herself with a wrinkled piece of paper, (Y/N) watched as customers dropped by, picked up a malt and left a few coins on the grey wood counter for her. Every now and again she collected them and slipped them into her satchel for safekeeping. When her supply was waning and she was collecting her coins for the second to last time, there was the familiar figure in front of her once more.  
Immediately, she drew herself up and smiled pleasantly. “Good morning, Grandmaster. A malt for you today?”  
“Ah, good morning, dear!” That handsome smile again. Everything in her fought against the sweetness she felt at seeing the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Yes, I’d like one of those very much. Just blazing hot out. Well, uh, that’s summer for you.” He laughed, quiet and awkward. So unlike a king, but so like him.  
“Mm. Indeed.” She spared him a smile. “Another for your right-hand woman?”  
“You know us so well!” He exclaimed, and she handed him two tall glasses of prulem-moonsilt whip. “Ohh, I’ll bet this is delicious. You’re just a magnificent cook.” Topaz appeared at his side, then, looking rather disgruntled, as per usual. For a moment, (Y/N) felt bad for her. The Grandmaster, for all his absent-minded being, must have been rather hard to keep a hold on.  
“Ah, Topaz. Just- just in time. Here. Have some. Why, that armor must be, uh, suffocating.”  
She locked eyes with (Y/N) as she sipped stiffly, which was, to say the least, rather intimidating. Nothing got past her, that was for certain. With the moonsilt malt to her apparent liking, she intoned, “It is nothing short of sufficient.”  
“A compliment, to be sure.” The Grandmaster searched through his silken azure and gold-lined pockets and produced several silver coins, each of which would have covered the cost of a month’s worth of portions. “That, ah, that should do it. Spectacular stuff, really. I can’t wait to see what’s next!” He grinned gleefully and sipped from his malt, and he had taken exactly two and a half steps away from the stand when (Y/N) called,  
“Wait, your Majesty--I--I have to ask…”  
Her tone faltered as she noticed Topaz’s burning stare and her hand that was now tensely gripped around the holster of some weapon at her waist.  
“Hm?” He turned halfway, looking cheerful as ever, rather unperturbed at what Topaz had determined to be a criminal disturbance. “Yes?”  
It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. (Y/N) was still worried about what Topaz might do to her, should she speak wrong somehow. “Why… why do you pay me so much? I’m sure you know the things I sell are relatively inexpensive.”  
His expression changed, infinitesimally, and before he could even quirk an eyebrow at her, she added, “I mean no harm, no disrespect to your generosity, my king. But I must know… what about a commoner like me makes you think I am even the slightest bit deserving of any generosity you wish to give?”  
At this, his face relaxed back into a smile. “My little rose, my dearest, my darling--there is nothing common about a Veneik like you.” Suddenly he was right in front of her, all-knowing hazel eyes staring into her soul as his fingertips traced the lacey white patterns on the skin of her jaw. His next words were scarcely above a whisper. “And I’d say I know you better than you know yourself.”  
With that, he let out a little laugh and strode off, motioning for Topaz to follow. She did so only after she finished glaring scorch marks into (Y/N)’s face.

The third time, he didn’t come to her. She came to him--upon request, of course.  
“Morning, Miss.” Topaz greeted (Y/N) with grit teeth and a forced grin. “Allow me to lead you upstairs to the Grandmaster.”  
(Y/N), in turn, tipped her head forward and bowed slightly. “Of course, ma’am.”  
They stepped into the lift together, and waited patiently until they got to the right floor. The silence between them was nothing short of unbearable to the Veneik woman, and so she dared to break it:  
“What tall ceilings you have here. Is there a purpose for them?”  
“The Grandmaster prefers everything to be big and glorious.” It sounded as if she were just a slightly angry tape recording, repeating words she’d heard before with a twinge of annoyance. “Wide open spaces suit him well.”  
“I’d feel lonely, if it weren’t for all these people.” (Y/N) smiled. “And how do you feel about it?”  
Topaz gave her a look that signified both boredom and irritation. “Of what matter to me is architecture?”  
“None, probably. But you never know.” She hummed, playing with the fringe on the sleeve of her best robes. “You intrigue me, you know. I think we could be friends.”  
Topaz scoffed so hard (Y/N) thought the woman might choke. “Oh, right. As if I’m supposed to believe that. Tell you what-” Suddenly, there was a weapon pointed right at (Y/N)’s face- “-you keep your absent-minded nonsense to yourself, and you’ll be on my good side.”  
“Point taken,” The Veneik said airily, stepping back with her hands raised in surrender.  
With that, they reached the floor on which The Grandmaster’s room was stationed.  
(Y/N) followed Topaz down the largest hall she’d seen yet--or maybe it just seemed like the largest because it was nearly completely empty. There were windows that looked miles high that let crystalline sunlight spill in over the tile flooring, and two sentries stood tall at the end of the bright walkway. Upon seeing Topaz striding towards them, they stood aside from the dark blue door, and allowed the pair through.  
“My darling rosie,” A voice chimed from the far end of the room, at which there was an enormous bed with gold drapes around it, “How are you today?”  
Topaz stood to the side of the doorway and stiffly motioned for (Y/N) to step forward, which she did gracefully, striding across the room with her lightest summer robes shuffling gently. Upon reaching his bedside, she bowed with deep respect, her hair and veil falling almost to touch the crimson bedspread. “I am well enough, your Majesty. And you?”  
It was ridiculous how regal he looked sitting upright in bed, with a darling sleepy smile on his face. “Now, now, my rosie, no need to be so formal. I told you that.” The Grandmaster thought a moment. “What did you- uh, what did you say your name was?”  
“(Y/N) (L/N).” She raised herself to her full height once more, in wonder at how delicate the Grandmaster could allow himself to appear. If she were none the wiser, she would assume he was powerless, laying in bed all frail-like. But she knew better.  
He nodded slowly, blinking, with his smile widening ever so slightly. “Do you know how old I am, (Y/N)?”  
“As old as the universe itself, surely. And about three times as wise.”  
He laughed and waved his hand dismissively at her. “None of that flattery now, dear, I’m, ah, I’m getting to something. You Veneik--how old are you when you die? Surely well over a century…how young, how young...”  
“My mother was nearing one hundred thirty when she passed,” (Y/N) offered. Her pale pink summer garments slipped around her person like liquid silk as she sat on the Grandmaster’s bed. “And my father, around one hundred fifty seven.”  
“I see.” His brow crinkled, and she saw a remembrance in his eyes, dancing ever so gently behind all the excitement, all the happiness.  
“What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Grandmaster?” Her voice, neater than a stone skipping six times across a distant lake, dropped shallowly into the Grandmaster’s consciousness. He closed his eyes and listened to the same voice from what seemed like forever ago, telling him wonderful, wonderful stories about her home planet. In his mind’s eye, there was a sunset--an old sunset, with colors more brilliant than he could ever hope to emulate. There was the bone chilling loneliness. He saw his hands: how youthful, how unlined, how strong with new energy they were. They were the same hands he had now, yes, but his were old and withered and full of time. These hands? Timeless.  
And he saw her. Behind his eyelids she was in the glow of the sunset, pink-hued skin aglow and shimmering from the summer rain that had just passed. Before the garbage, before the hustle and bustle of life, living, everywhere. Before the terraforming, before the people. Before there was anybody else but them to be happy.  
And then he opened his eyes and saw the girl before him, tilting her head in confusion and slight concern. Those eyes, like gemstones behind the veil, said more to him than she would ever know.  
He laughed, ever so softly, and drew her in for a hug. “I haven’t seen anyone quite like you for, uh, around… well, let’s see…” Letting go, his hazel eyes met hers with a little squint, like he wasn’t used to doing math in his head. “Hmm. Must be something close to thirteen million years.”  
(Y/N) was in awe at this point. “Thirteen million? We’ve...we’ve existed for that long?”  
“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “One of your...gosh, how would I put it...ancestral mothers...yes. One of your ancestral mothers was my most trusted confidant.”  
'And friend,' said a voice in the Grandmaster’s subconscious. He pushed it away. “And what a great cook! Oh, the splendid things she would make. Very similar to, uh, how you work, edible gemstones and all that jazz. So!” The smiling man in gold clapped his hands together with a strength that looked, for just a second, beyond him. “I wanted to ask you, my rose, my precious--how would you like to be a royal chef for yours truly?”  
(Y/N) was, at the very least, taken aback by this question. She didn't know what she was expecting. In fact, it would have been better off not to expect anything at all--but the question stood and it was almost a moment too long before she answered with a little upward twitch of the lips,  
“I would love that.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note here: (Y/F/N) = your favorite name. I feel like most people who read these types of stories (i.e. reader inserts) want less original characters and more control over the storyline--and while I can only give you limited control because I know where I want the story to go and just hope you'll swing by to read and maybe appreciate it, I can give you the opportunity to control small things, like names you choose for characters.  
> Hope you enjoy this installment of my latest (and favoritest) project :)

Upon the lonely beak of the grey-dawn dove rose a sweltering sun; new, and shining for all it was worth. Gold and fire trickled down from the heavens to paint a luminous warmth on the surface of the planet soon-to-be-named, finding with its searching, glorious rays that there were two new life forms to be sustained: a boy, with fierceness, wonder and power in his gaze, and a girl, with gentleness and pride.  
As it was, the boy hadn’t awoken from his dazed sleep yet. He was still in shock from being thrown into the vortex, and in fact, rather in denial that the whole thing had ever happened. So long as he kept his eyes shut, that’s where the supposed false memory would stay.  
This was the third day in which he woke up like that, pretending it had never happened. If the sun on this newborn planet could muse about such things, it would wonder with curiosity at the stubbornness he exhibited.  
Then, there was the girl, the new arrival.  
She was blessed pink skin and soft, downy hair, mixed with a distinctly-bipedal and vaguely humanoid body. She was a Veneik, more specifically from the planet VE-XII, a little rock shuttered up under some primitive federation or council that decided her people would be bred in captivity like animals and worked as slaves to mine for gemstones and rich minerals. As such, she’d been perfectly happy when that strange cloud swept her up in a circle of lightning and deposited her here, safe, and with freedom. There were so many new things to find, so many things to do! Her needs did not escape her, but finding rocks to snack on (easily digestible for her as they were for someone specifically made for living far underground, where nothing ever grows) and cool water to sip was almost laughably simple. And this was her second day.  
She rose with the sun, dancing lightly on her feet and secretly smiling at the feeling of earth under her and only air and sky above. On the plains of this little planet, she twirled and leaped miraculously, only stopping every once in a while to catch a breath. She ran forward, drew back, laughed, ran forward again. Language had never caught her tongue or mind, as young as she was, and though she was wordless she reached for something to describe what beauty and enormity she felt here. It was heaven at the same time as it was godless. It was chance at the same time as it was destiny. It was-  
“Oof!”  
Ah, she had tripped over something. Strange. No rocks had been here yesterday.  
Scrabbling to her feet and shaking the dust out of the linens draped and tied about her, she tilted her head to the side and enunciated some curious vowel at the boy who lay, now groaning, on the ground.  
At the noise, he looked up at her. “Who are you?” He, too, jumped up to meet her, and sparks flew from his fingertips with the nervous and restless energy he possessed. “Who are you?”  
She opened her mouth as if to speak, and he waited in agitation.  
“Hoo ah-r you?” She echoed back to him, and laughed.  
A cold blaze of light fried her senses for a moment and a strange whiteness engulfed her vision. Stricken by surprise and the sudden uncomfortable feeling that somebody was rifling through her mind, she made a keening noise that she’d heard only once from a fellow Veneik who had become trapped in a gorge while they were mining. A word appeared in her mind, and she was able to make some sense of it.  
Fear.  
“So you have no language.” Her vision returned quickly and the boy stood before her, normal as ever, no sparks or strange lights or anything. Just him and the sun rising behind him. On wobbly ankles, she learned another word seemingly out of nowhere.  
Power.  
“Well, that’s… that’s disappointing, to say the least.” The boy sat back down in the dirt, content to glare at the sun and somehow not burn his retinas. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought they’d give me someone worthwhile.”  
“Worth why all,” the Veneik repeated thoughtfully.  
He looked at her reproachfully, sighed, and turned back to the sun in front of them. She eagerly kneeled beside her new friend, hoping he would keep talking. This person sure was interesting.  
“My name is En. En Dwi Gast. And you don’t have a name.” Again, he looked at her, more softly this time.  
“Mm,” She nodded and hummed in apparent agreement.  
“What to name you...hm, what to name you…”  
“You, you, you,” She chanted quietly in an echo.  
“I’ve got it.” En Dwi smiled, and drew the letters in the dust that had settled like the morning sun on the land. “I shall call you (Y/F/N).”

The Grandmaster awoke that morning feeling as if he were several million years younger, which was quite nice, even if he didn’t know exactly why. The position of the sun, whose rays were now late and melting into a mellow gold, told him that it was about breakfast time. With a yawn he tumbled out of bed and set about dressing up to go downstairs where the kitchens were situated to see how (Y/N) was getting along.  
And what a pleasant surprise, too! Usually his unexpected but fearfully anticipated presence in the kitchen brought about a stifling air of terror and oppression, but since the Veneik’s arrival the staff had been much more relaxed and friendly. With a good-natured smile and youthful stride, he approached her as she was peeling vegetables over the sink with another young worker.  
“Yes, just last night, actually,” She had finished saying to the worker beside her before he spun her around by her shoulder and planted a kiss on her forehead.  
“Ah, rosie, how are you this morning, eh?” He grinned boyishly and was entertained wholly by her genuine laugh in return.  
“I’m wonderful, your Highness, just magnificent.” How her almond eyes crinkled just the right way with that smile! She really was the spitting image of (Y/F/N). “Have you come for breakfast?”  
“Indeed I have.” He straightened up a little and noted that she had a colander full of hisiavas and green keyotes. “Mm. And those, uh, those are for breakfast, I suppose?”  
“They are.” She resumed peeling the hard iatain she had in hand, a small potato-like vegetable with tough reddish-pink skin and white flesh. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I make you something else.”  
“Oh no, dear.” He chuckled. “Whatever, ah, whatever you have going already I’ll be happy to eat. Just for you. It’ll… hah. It’ll probably be the healthiest meal I’ve had in a while.”  
“In that case, I’m glad to be making it for you.” (Y/N) smiled up at the Grandmaster, whose eyes were glinting happily with a touch more clarity than they had been these past few days.  
“Well, I’ll leave you lovely ladies to the cooking. Much love, and-” he winked at (Y/N), ignoring as best he could the trembling kitchen hand beside her, “-many stars.”  
Upon his gliding exit from the kitchen area, there was a collective sigh and the buzz of the morning shift resumed as the servants immediately felt more at ease without the threat of consequential death looming nearby. (Y/N) had skinned a few more iatains before she noticed the girl beside her staring at her with a kind of curious fright.  
“What is it?” She asked. “Something on my face? I am supposed to have these, you know.” Her hand went up to touch the lacy patterns etched into her skin by genetics, but the girl shook her head vigorously, nearly sending her hairnet flying.  
“No, the-the Grandmaster, he- you-” She pointed first at the doorway, and then at (Y/N), with eyes as big at the plates they were serving breakfast on. Then she gasped and a thick matted chunk of her probably-once-blue-hued hair fell from the mass she’d pinned back against her head. Her golden eyes gleamed with such intensity that (Y/N) could practically feel the energy. “Are you another one of his- well, you know…” The kitchen servant gestured shyly, and shucked off her gloves to pin her hair back in place.  
“His what?” The Veneik, though puzzled, wouldn’t allow herself to be troubled by this interesting bit. The kitchen hand looked like somewhat of a gossiper, if she was being honest. Not that she wanted to label her as one--there was just something about her that made it extraordinarily…believable.  
The blue haired girl looked around, leaned in, and whispered: “Escorts. You’re not one of his… escorts, are you?”  
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” With a chiding look, (Y/N) rolled her eyes and returned to the skinning of her vegetables. “If I’m an escort, why would he have me making breakfast for him?”  
The servant took some time to ponder this.  
“Exactly.” (Y/N) hummed. “Now, could you show me where you keep the oil around here?”

Not half an hour later, The Grandmaster was delighted to see a set of three maids saunter up to him on the balcony, fronted by his one and only pure rose. Only when they had put every last little blue pottery dish and item of silverware and platter of food down on the table did (Y/N) allow herself to be distracted by the gorgeous scenery that lay before them. The sun was rising over a section of land that appeared to be, for the most part, completely untouched by the vortex’s now-callous hand, clean of every bit of debris she could remember from the streets and her own home. Silently, she wondered why there, of all places. And how greedy of him to have kept a clean strip of land to himself. There were surely people she knew who could use it, for housing or farming or otherwise.  
And still.  
Something about sitting on morning’s lap out under the wild blue, watching the gleaming sunrise--something about it took her breath away and made her understand, even just a little bit.  
“Your breakfast meal, Grandmaster.” She intoned with a final breath and glance at the beautiful landscape which he’d kept to himself all these years.  
“Oh, goody!” The Grandmaster clapped and smiled. (Y/N) was reminded vaguely of a Veneik child doing much the same when presented with a candied arlidot.  
In the span of thirty minutes, she’d managed to scrape together a whole new recipe from scratch, which included a shredded hash of iatains, hisiavas and minced green keyotes, fried pio-pio eggs (named after a bird that apparently made a ‘pio-pio’ noise), biscuits with arlidot jam, and a thick sort of shake made from a multitude of sweet, fruit-like ingredients which the kitchen hand Saali pointed out to her rather helpfully.  
(Y/N) sat patiently at the Grandmaster’s side, turning her gaze upon him as he spoke about whatever happened to cross his mind. Things like certain laws he was considering rewriting, how she should go out with Topaz sometime and get her to loosen up, about all the prisoners he had been waiting all week to bring together for an epic game of the champions. She listened meekly and wondered in the back of her mind whether she might get a slice of bread or something from the kitchen later. As early as she had woken up, she’d barely taken the time to prepare a breakfast for herself. The sun continued to rise charmingly, adorning their little stone table with a chipper glow.  
“Oh, dear, you must be starving! Here, here, uh, have some jam and biscuit.” Awkwardly, he passed a little slice of the bread and the arlidot jam dish to her. “I’m sorry, I tend to have my head in the clouds. You really should have said something!”  
(Y/N) thanked him with a hint of embarrassment. The sun seemed to be laughing at her and her just-a-bit-too-noisy stomach.  
Once she had finished the little swatch of biscuit she’d been offered (and in no less than forty seconds), the Grandmaster leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly, with a lazy smile. “Now that, uh, that. That is what I would call a breakfast.”  
(Y/N) allowed herself to smile so wide that the corners of her eyes crinkled. “It is my absolute pleasure to cook for you, your Majesty. Since you receive it so well.”  
A beat passed between them, and just like that, the Grandmaster flew back up in his seat, grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the table with a stormy look in his eyes. Admittedly, her heart jumped and started a little, but she made no move to get away. Veneiks like her were impeccably good at reading atmosphere, and he wasn’t upset with her. No, it wasn’t her. Something else, then, which she could only guess at. Her eyes searched his for some sort of answer, but got none.  
“Do you know my name?”  
At first, she shook her head, but his grasp on her thin wrist tightened and she was almost afraid her bones would crack under the pressure.  
“Think. Think. I’m going to ask you again.”  
“Yes, your Majesty.” She scrunched her eyes closed and thought as hard as she could, searching her soul for any hint of the Grandmaster’s name. She called on every past interaction, every memory her mother and father had shared, even some she thought she shouldn’t be able to remember. And still she could not come up with a definite answer.  
“Do you know my name?”  
She hesitated. After a moment of silence, she spoke. “No.”  
(Y/N) opened her eyes to see the Grandmaster’s turbulent gaze turned upon the distant horizon. It appeared that the clouds of the vortex were beginning to overtake the beautiful sunrise. His fingers uncurled from her arm, and he was just pulling away when she took a risk and grabbed onto his hand instead.  
“But it starts with an E.”  
It took him a moment, but as soon as the spark in his eyes returned, she could feel the force of his positive energy returning like a tidal wave onto shore. Gleeful laughs left his chest as he took her by the waist, hugged her, swung her around, and set her down to place a kiss on the veil now covering her forehead.  
“My darling (Y/N), my sweet, sweet rose!” He turned his head to the heavens and cried out with joy. “My (Y/F/N) has returned!”  
When musing about this somehow-great occurrence later, (Y/N) realized he must have been talking about her ancestral mother again. He seemed oddly put together when he considered that. None of the usual bumbling, tumbling, idle conversation was there. He seemed younger, and more powerful. More like a tyrant, yes, but more like a man with some morals, too. (Y/N) decided she wouldn’t touch the subject unless it came up.  
She didn’t have to wait very long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments/if you see any grammatical errors! I thrive off of feedback and really love responding to any and all comments. Love you all, have a superb day! <3 <3 <3


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: (Y/F/N) still translates to your favorite name, but I might go back and change it to (F/N) for the context of the story. Let me know if you think that would be easier to read!
> 
> Love you & hope you enjoy this latest segment :)

On the fourth day, the sun had risen as it usually did: cheerfully and without a cloud in the sky to block it. Well, except the vortex, which seemed a little closer. And perhaps a little angrier. Several things were flying out of it, some of which were edible rocks—(Y/F/N) treated herself to a snack of black pearl granite before her new friend woke up.  
En Dwi rose only when the sun reached its highest peak and its scorching bronze gaze tortured him out of rest in his cotton-silk robes. It took him a moment to locate the girl on the horizon and go to her, striding hotly over clay and simmering earth to get to the sweetness who knew no language except her name and his. She was playing with a strange feathered thing he recognized vaguely as a bird. He guessed it had been dead for some time.  
“Don’t touch that.” He snatched the bird’s limp body away from her and tossed it on the sand a ways from them. Part of him wished she would do something interesting. Perhaps yell, or scream. Maybe she would try to attack him. Then he’d have to subdue her, and punish her; make her spend a night out in a dust storm. He could create one just for her, to sear her eyes and make her afraid of ever trying to stand up to him again.  
But that was only if she tried to be aggressive. She did not. (Y/F/N) merely blinked up at him with a quiet sereneness, hands open as if waiting to be given something, or waiting to be held. She rocked back on her heels and crooned sadly at the bird’s corpse.  
“It’s dead.” He said, and repeated it again, enunciating it.  
She cocked her head to the side.  
“Dead,” he whispered, and pressed a thumb to her forehead to relay the meaning of the word. At the touch, she leaned in and her eyes gazed out somewhere, not quite seeing, as her mouth fell open in astonishment and shock from the new word.  
“Dead.” She mouthed around the word as if it were somehow immoral to say out loud. “Dead. Dead. Dead,” she began to cry, and he took his hand away from her, knowing he’d allowed too many pictures and sounds and feelings of lifelessness to pass into her mind. (Y/F/N) reached out hollowly with a shaking hand to the bird, who laid sordid and depressing on the dusty ground. For a while she sat, sobbing and mourning the pile of grimy feathers for whom she felt awful.  
En Dwi did not have the courage to comfort her. Instead he tried to distance himself, disturbed at how utterly overcome with emotion she was. At how she could cry for a life she had never known; a life so small and delicate and ultimately insignificant as that of a bird.

“E.” (Y/N) murmured to herself as she worked. “E, e, e.”  
She was three days into her stint as the ‘royal chef’ and since the first day, nothing too remarkable had happened. The Grandmaster had been in a bit of a mood and waved her off from meals early, so that he could sit alone and think. Topaz was concerned about this because it ‘just wasn’t like him,’ and being presumptuously suspicious of the young Veneik hire in the kitchen, she watched as his food was carefully prepared to be sure there weren’t any drugs being slipped in. She questioned every plate that went in or out, and eyed every odd-looking vegetable or fruit, despite how (Y/N) would exasperatedly tell her over and over again, “it’s a secret ingredient, but here, here—I’ve got a list of things it’s used for, the primary components, what taste it offers, everything.” And besides Topaz’s increased security, the young lady had been trying to guess at what the Grandmaster’s real name might be.  
At first, from habit, she guessed Earthen names. Those which she had had the chance to study were particularly interesting to her: such names as Edmund or Ebert, or Elliot, or Emanuel. All pretty, all masculine, all high-society, but if ever a name he were to pick, Grandmaster would not have chosen any of those.  
So she thought about some names from her own and similar kinds. Einka, Erite, Eglobo, Erion--still none of those seemed to fit.  
The chopping of the crunchy vegetables in front of her brought her back down from her wondering for a moment. She finished up the last bit of dicing and scooped up the hisiava cubes, placing them in a pan with a little bit of oil and pepper. They’d fry quite nicely, and then she could stir in some ham and add a glaze.  
Her fingertips searched for the mortar and pestle under the countertop, and for a moment she tried to recall the feeling she’d gotten when she realized that the Grandmaster’s name started with an E. It was a hard feeling to place… like someone had reached through her mind and grabbed her hand to pull her back to a memory she didn’t even have. A memory, in fact, that was so blurry and clouded with the cobwebs of time, she didn’t even recognize anything but the E. It was like looking through frosted glass with someone on the other side mouthing incomprehensible words to her.  
Mustard seeds squealed in dry protest under her pestle. Well, it was possible that her kind at one point had possessed some sort of telepathy. When she was young, her mother had often regaled her with stories of Veneiks, powerful soldiers who could communicate cross-world when they so desired.  
“Across the swamp lands,” she’d say as she laughed and tickled her daughter’s belly. “Across the bright orange sky, yes…”  
(Y/N) wondered what had happened to them all, then, if they were so great and could communicate plans with a single thought. Somewhere down the gene line, she supposed, there’d been one Veneik who had no special empathy or telepathy talent, and unfortunately, he must have had quite a few children with the lack thereof as well.  
Still, there was no harm in trying, right?  
Tuning out the grinding of the black mustard seeds, she focused solely on that feeling: ancient, godly, like calling out and receiving an echo of some time, some place… a hand, as pink as a soft carnation, reaching out to her—  
“En Dwi Gast!” A voice shouted that was so similar to her own it startled her. Raging flames were roaring past her ears, but the disembodied voice demanded sternly to be heard, like a mother scolding a child: “Stop this! I beg of you, stop this!”  
A sharp pain in her temple revived her from the fierce bittersweet-gold vision, and with a start, she realized she was on the floor.  
Saali, the kitchen hand with unruly and horribly thick blue hair, leaned over her with her lip being sawn between her many rows of teeth. “(Y/N)! Hey, hey, (Y/N)! Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”  
“I- yes, I’m fine.” To prove it, she got to her feet quickly and smiled gently. “No need to worry.”  
“I...your mustard,” Saali wailed in dismay at the shattered mortar and pestle on the floor. “Oh! He’ll kill you!”  
“I’m sure it won’t come to that-”  
“What’s going on here?” Topaz grabbed both women by the shoulders and spun them to face her. “What’s going on?”  
“Oh, just slipped on a little oil and fell. I’m alright. Saali here was helping me clean up the mess,” The Veneik said in her most soothing and persuasive tones. “I’m sure I can pay for a new mortar and pestle. No worries at all.”  
Topaz pinched her lips tightly together as if she’d just been forced to eat a blood lemon. “That had better be all that’s broken, otherwise the Grandmaster will have your head on a platter.” A twisted grin formed on her otherwise puckered face. “And your melted body for dessert.”  
Keeping one hand on her weapon, the orange-armored soldier returned to her lookout point in the doorway, maintaining hard eye contact with (Y/N) until the doe-eyed woman had to look away, console her fellow kitchen worker, and clean up the shattered porcelain mess.  
Too late. The blue-haired girl already had a bin and broom in her hand, frantically sweeping up the mess and muttering a prayer to someone in her native language. (Y/N) tried to help her, but Saali shook her off. “Go grab my pestle, you can use it,” she urged in a tiny voice, and added something like “may God help you.”  
For the moment, the Veneik decided to comply with her coworker’s generosity. “Thank you.”  
“He wants his meal done in the next fifteen minutes!” cried Saali. “Don’t thank me yet, don’t!”  
Rubbing the spot on her temple where she’d fallen and hit her head on the countertop, (Y/N) rolled up the sleeves on her midsummer working garments and kicked into overdrive. She had the hisiavas with ham and glaze ready within five minutes, and used her extra time to make a prulem-moonsilt whip, a mini silver citronite salad and even put together a thick black criquat pudding for dessert.

The Grandmaster, needless to say, was pleasantly surprised at his meal. “How, how—ah, what’s the word… ingenious! How ingenious of you.” Words spoken about the hisiavas, ham, and mustard-honey glaze, to be sure. He ate ravenously, like a lone wolf starved for days on end. But, she noticed with a little smile, he made sure to offer her something of everything before he really tucked in. The throbbing in her head didn’t really make her feel like eating anything, but the kindness was appreciated and she told him so. He looked at her from under his eyelashes, feigning shyness. “Oh, now, really. Well. Okay.” A little laugh, and the lines that had been creasing his eyebrows into a slight frown all day finally relaxed. “I- I guess I am pretty, uh, thoughtful, aren’t I?”  
(Y/N) bowed her head until her veil touched the tablecloth. “Most considerate, my king.”  
“Oh, hush now, you’ll make me blush. I’ll rival even your pretty pink complexion,” he warned playfully with a grin. (Y/N) allowed herself a little giggle. Being like this… she wasn’t sure why, but it felt as if she were playing charades with an old friend.  
Which, somehow, brought her back to the disturbing thing she had seen earlier. She cleared her throat. “Grandmaster, I believe I know your name.”  
He had been in the middle of a smiling bite of black criquat pudding when his youthful glow disappeared. The worry returned in lines and darkness around his figure. (Y/N) wondered if her empathic tendencies were acting up or if, perhaps, he really did mean to show his aura that way. With a start she realized how very old he looked, how weary and worn down by the centuries. Pillars crumbled in the corners of his eyes, though he dared not shed a tear to disturb the dust.  
“What is my name?” He said with perfect distinction, and she could tell he was remembering again.  
She opened her mouth, blinked, and with a smooth breath, let the words come naturally to her as they would have to that million-year-old mouth in her vision. “Your name is En Dwi Gast.”  
His reaction was dissimilar to the one he had upon realizing she actually had some semblance of telepathic ability. Instead of shouting for joy and swinging her around like she was a delightful little grandchild of his, the Grandmaster looked at her strangely, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought she was wrong. Whose name was it that she had heard cried aloud so fiercely?  
But there was no need to worry. “Yes.” He said, with the crispness of a snowflake, the likes of which hardly ever appeared on Sakaar. “That, uh…” With a laugh, he set down the spoon with the pudding still on it. “That… that is my name. How did it come to you?”  
For a moment, (Y/N) thought she would be honest. The Grandmaster (or should she call him En Dwi?) had never done anything to insinuate that she would be put in harm’s way. Indeed, he seemed to treat her even better than his faithful companion Topaz, something which the latter was probably upset about. As the notion crossed her mind to be truthful to her king, she remembered with a catching breath that voice which had screamed out his name in such pleading, sorrowful wails as a bank of fire and ash rose around her. The sensation made her shudder.  
“I heard it in a… well, a vision, you might say. A memory, I think. There was a voice like mine that was calling out your name.” She looked out over the open strip of land, already profusely aware of his intense gaze, trying instead to focus on the howling winds that signified an incoming wind storm. On the horizon, she thought she could see a little pink figure dancing along the garbage heap.  
Then she dared to turn and look him in the eye. There was only time for a quick word before he pressed his hand to her forehead and she felt the wickedness and torment lying behind that scream, that ancient demand:  
“Don’t hide from me, my rose.”  
Once again, her senses were overcome with the twirling licks and lashes of red and gold fury. The Grandmaster was standing in the middle of it all. She could see him, in his youthful flare, orchestrating the raging flames so violently he shook. With wonder and horror she looked at him, and felt her lips move.  
“En Dwi Gast!” She bellowed above the noise of the flames screaming and scorching and smothering life around them. “Stop this! I beg of you, stop this!”  
The woman she was now, somehow older, more sturdy on her feet, with more knowledge in her head, had a beautiful picture of how it could end. (Y/F/N). The foreign-yet-familiar syllables came to (Y/N) now as easy as if they were her own name. This woman, (Y/F/N), was trying to console her friend. She wanted compassion and love and repentance from the Grandmaster—from En Dwi. Thousands of thoughts sprinted through the deepness of her mind. 'Hate is only an absence of love,' said one, the loudest thought of all. 'Sorrow is only an absence of happiness.'  
(Y/F/N) had thought she would be able to make a celestial elder bow to kindness and empathy, had thought that the sound of her voice could bring him to peace, clarity and allow the arrogance and grief to spill achingly from his heart like the sick, stagnant water it was. But En Dwi would not listen.  
He howled like a wounded animal and (Y/N) could feel the pride boiling over in the atmosphere around them.  
“You are beneath me!”  
Her skirt caught on fire.  
“I am the king of this world!”  
(Y/N) tried to run, but stuck as she was in the memory (and chained like a prisoner to its accurate representation), she could not. The smoking orange beast clawed painfully up her legs as (Y/F/N) tried to listen to her beloved, to help him stop hurting.  
“I do not need anyone, least of all you!”  
The fire had gotten to her neck now, singeing her hair and veil and evaporating the tears that laid strewn across her cheeks. With a final breath, (Y/F/N) gave one last mournful, prophetic declaration,  
“I will see you again, En Dwi. I hope for your sake that you will have learned.”  
The fire ate everything in her vision, then, and a painful ringing in her ears led her back to Sakaar in real time.  
The Grandmaster drew back from her with a look more weary than she had ever seen on his face.  
They sat in silence for a moment. (Y/N) didn’t dare speak to him, she was still shaking from the encounter. He’d burned an entire population on this planet alive. But surely she’d known that, known how cruel he could be. She’d seen the public executions. What kept her from being afraid before? What really kept her from understanding how awful he really could be? The experience, she supposed. Now she understood what it was to be burned at the stake in innocence.  
(Y/N) was too terrified to speak to a tyrant king, and so she waited with eyes bigger than the sun for him to say something, anything, to make it somehow better—or worse. What did she know, after all? (Y/F/N)’s dying wish was not likely to have come true, even after all those centuries. Some gods would never repent.  
“If you want,” his voice was quiet and grave, “You may leave.”  
All the courage she could muster up went into the trembling kiss she pressed to the back of his hand, which was lying somewhat lifeless on the table. His cold copper eyes never left the horizon where the pink shadow still danced, scattering dust into the air, jumping and twirling like (Y/F/N) would have if she’d known what happened over the course of the last few days.  
“I told you,” her smile echoed so hard in En Dwi’s mind he could feel it; could hear her glee even now. “I told you I’d see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... a bit darker than usual. Hopefully the opening scene wasn't too disturbing for you. What did you think? Any suggestions? Grammar mistakes you noticed? Some things I could fix? Let me know! I hope your day goes wonderfully and that you're enjoying watching the story unfold :) <3


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another memory, another sentiment. Another meal. Or rather, a midnight snack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited, and freshly written today! If you catch any grammatical/continuity errors, please let me know <3  
> Otherwise, enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

On the fifth day, the sun rose as it would, dearly, sweetly—but blindly, too, for it was hidden behind the vortex, which had grown ever closer and ever more unpredictable. Nothing alive had come out of it thus far, except for the two of them, which En Dwi was appreciative of. (F/N) was a handful by herself. It was like taking care of a baby, if that baby could walk and jump and burrow into solid rock. This day she was hiding, a game she had taken to playing because it annoyed him, but to an extent where he could not punish her for being childish. It was awful, how she loved him to bits—though he had been ingratiating himself with her, in a way. Every now and again he would teach her a new word; an occurrence that shortly followed the events of the previous morning. He would never in an eon admit it, but he felt guilt peeling at his heart for how crudely he had shoved the concept of death at her. So with it, En offered her sacred words, such as Love and Life—and oh, the look in her eyes, as if she could see the universe. She begged him for more words, never far from his fingertips, grasping as gently as she could with her calloused and scarred hands. “Life,” she chanted to him with the fervor of someone madly in love. “Life, life, life. En Dwi.” He pressed his hand to her forehead and sent her into the throes of Beauty and Sentiment, twirling through her mind loose definitions and visions that burned like savourable lament, those of Saccharine, Soul, Harmony, Flower, and Jubilee. In a silent deferral of himself, too, he added Pride, Fire, and Sin. Then he kissed the wound better with Celestial and Star.  
En Dwi didn’t like that she was hiding now, on this dim morning. The vortex was sending out winds strong enough to bowl over an army and it was taking considerable strength to keep himself grounded. He couldn’t say much for (F/N), who he thought must have been hiding in the ground, making friends with the worms again.  
“Life!” He called over the howling, pained animal that the wind made itself to be. “Celestial! Love, beauty—” Something clattered down behind him, another plastic wreck from that stupid, insufferable portal. “Death!” He screamed with angry fire in his lungs, and finally she showed her face, peeping up with terrified eyes from the rocky land some ways away.  
En Dwi did not run to her, and he certainly did not scoop her up like a mother would a child. He did not run for miles and miles away from the choking purple clouds in the sky just so they would be safely hidden from flying debris, and he didn’t whisper new words like Thimble and Wind and Ribbon to her so that she wouldn’t be frightened. But he also couldn’t deny that any of that had happened. (F/N) looked at him curiously while he ran with her in his arms, tucked in close near his heart. She gently traced the line of his jaw and when En decided they were far enough away, he dumped her in an unceremonious heap on the ground.  
“Wind,” She said, peering to the black horizon on which the angry cloud wreaked its distant havok.  
“Yes.” En Dwi nodded, and she repeated him quietly, shaking her head vigorously up and down.  
“En Dwi.”  
“What?”  
She seemed to struggle with the right words for a moment, and motioned for him to come closer. He gave her a skeptical look, but took a step in her direction. As gentle as the touch of a tendril of mist, she held his gaze and pressed her thumb to his forehead.  
At first, nothing happened. The vortex tore up the horizon with deafening totality—and then he was overcome with a flowing feeling of gratitude, punctuated with residual anxiety about the angry clouds. Foreign chatter slipped over his mindspace with the ease of gently rolling water, and only one phrase was translated to him:  
‘Thank you.’  
He must have heard it a million times before (F/N) took her thumb away from his head, and yet nothing he had ever heard from her lips could have sounded as sincere as her directly relaying her feelings to him. It was astounding in a way that almost humbled him, because surely she was of some noble background, she had to have been, with a power like that. He impressed this knowledge on her, asking through their minds if she, too, was created of stars and cosmic dust.  
‘No.’ She leaned her head against his to better understand and speak with him. ‘My people are descended from beetles of the ground. I come from the dirt, I eat the rocks, I live as a piece of planet.’  
En Dwi, needless to say, was confused, and mildly angry because he did not like to be confused. But (F/N) held the back of his neck to keep them together a moment longer, for she had one more thing to tell him:  
‘And who’s to say that the sky is better than the sea, or the clay better than the forest? Where you are, you can see everything that is happening. You have unbelievable power.’  
En Dwi smiled wryly. At least she knew her place.  
‘The sea, the forest, the clay, they are close together. Their descendants grow up friends, neighbors, brothers, sisters, laughing under the suns and moons and protection that you provide.’  
Yes, that was true.  
‘But the sky?’  
The sky what?  
‘The sky is the loneliest of them all.’

(Y/N) was awoken in the morning by a sharp banging at her bedroom door. For a moment her heart skipped several beats, as she thought she had overslept somehow, even though Veneiks were known to rise and fall asleep with the sun. She nearly fell out of bed trying to get up and had time to wrap a shawl around her person, which was also neatly decorated with the sleep-scrunched folds of a silken nightgown, before she opened the door with such ferocity and hurriedness that it nearly came off the hinges.  
“What is it?” She swept her hair back from her face and looked into the cold black eyes of none other than Topaz.  
“The Grandmaster wishes a cup of the finest, warm, sedative drink you can make at this hour with provided ingredients.” It was almost as if she were reading off a script. “Now, if you please.”  
(Y/N) turned her head back inside her room to see if she could find the moon through her window. No, no moon. She determined from this that it was at least midnight, if not some hours past. “Thank you for coming to get me, Topaz. I appreciate it.”  
There came a begrudging sigh. “I’m too tired for your bullshit, so kindly keep it to yourself.”  
“Yes ma’am.” And down to the kitchens they went. Topaz flicked on a switch and the metallic countertops were flooded with light, along with the bins and cases of ingredients and gleaming sets of cutlery and serving dishes. The female guard took up her usual position at the doorway to watch (Y/N) work, and the latter used her shawl to gather up her hair and anchor it behind her while she completed her early morning task.  
First came the evabage leaves. They left a sweet scent in the kitchen after (Y/N) washed and finely minced them, setting them aside on a small saucer for later use. Then the crimson plioves, which gave a little twinge of spice to the dish. She searched all the refrigerated bins once, and then again, in search of a specific fruit whose milk she would need.  
“Have you seen any ripe pruciper around?” She asked Topaz, who grunted and pointed in the direction of the pantry.  
“Ah, thank you.” She rushed to look through the shelves and was delighted to find a fruit half the size of her head, which would give her more than enough milk with a flavor similar to the Earthen hazelnut. And finally, she picked a jumarula from a new shipment to slice and dip in the warm spiced drink. All she needed now was to prepare the ingredients, and hope that the pruciper milk’s tendency of overheating and curdling would not come into play at any point tonight.  
Topaz watched her like a hawk, but mostly out of interest, instead of her usual suspicious-of-poisoning manner. (Y/N) guessed that since it had been almost a week and since the Grandmaster was still alive, she was beginning to warm up to the idea of a Veneik cook. Plus, she had never seen ingredients mixed with such vigor and sureness of the outcome. So it was only natural to be curious when (Y/N) filled a saucepan halfway with water, and began to beat rhythmically at the thick shell of the pruciper with a little hammer the size of her thumb.  
“Why are you doing that?” She asked in her gruff voice, coughing a little and wishing she hadn’t spoken.  
“To break open the shell.” (Y/N) answered smoothly and calmly, like she’d almost been expecting the question. Topaz gave a little ‘hmph’.  
“Why’s the hammer so small?”  
“I don’t want to puncture the skin below. The shell is quite thick, so I need a hammer to break it. But I don’t want the hammer to fracture the shell in a way that splits the skin, because then-” The cook brushed all the broken pieces of shell off the fruit and held it up to show its rubbery, balloon-like consistency with the milk sloshing around inside. “All the milk will spill.”  
“I see.” Topaz had never seen such a fruit before, and was mildly impressed, though she would never willingly admit such a thing. (Y/N) took a moment to break open the seam of the fruit over a strainer and mug, and thus separated the pruciper seeds from the milk.  
“And now you can pour the milk into the saucepan?” Topaz was genuinely interested at this point, having nothing else to do but stand by the door and watch.  
“Yes, but I’ll mix in the other ingredients first.” There the evabage leaves went, into the mug of milk. Then came the crimson plioves, crushed into a fine dust that gave the milk a cinnamon-red hue. She poured the mixture carefully into the saucepan, which was over a working burner and slowly coming to a controlled simmer.  
“Could you do me a favor?” (Y/N) asked suddenly, and beckoned Topaz over. Edgily, the woman in armor made her way over to the counter.  
“What?”  
“Take this,” (Y/N) pushed the jumarula along with a paring knife into Topaz’s thick, unsteady hands. “Rinse it in the sink and slice it in thin wedges. You can put them on this plate.” She patted a porcelain dish near her that was decorated with speckles and stars. “And don’t worry about the pit in the middle, just cut around it and it’ll fall out.”  
Topaz thought of arguing, but after she spent a moment staring at the Veneik who had turned her back to gently stir and keep her eyes on the milky mixture heating in the pan, no argument that she could rightly make came to mind, and thus the fruit was washed and sliced neatly. The knot in the shawl holding back (Y/N)’s hair was like the knot forming slowly in Topaz’s throat, from some unshakable emotion that was surely brought on by the late hour of the night.  
Or perhaps it was the warmth of (Y/N)’s hands as she pressed the fruit dearly into Topaz’s palm, with a sweetness like a mother. Like the mother she had never gotten along with, or like the women she surrounded herself with at young ages, who were always kind and subservient to a fault.  
Topaz cleared her throat and put away the memories she’d been shuffling through and didn’t turn her head to look once more at the Veneik woman’s slender form bending over the stove like a willow reed. The fruit was sliced and the stone placed in the garbage. The drink was made and its heat carried through the kitchen with a sweet scent, not unlike cinnamon and hazelnuts.  
“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) spoke with misty eyes, which Topaz was surprised to see. “Veneiks are very emotional creatures and- well, we can transfer some unpleasant emotions. If you felt sad at all just now, I’m sorry.”  
“Didn’t feel a thing,” Topaz said in a rough voice, cold, so that it couldn’t betray her. “Why? You feel sad?”  
“Yes.” The honesty shocked her, and Topaz’s black eyes widened just a bit. “I used to make this drink all the time for my mother, when her health was failing.” (Y/N) balanced a tray with two tall cozy mugs of cinnamon scented warm milk, and looked down as if the kitchen tiled floor might hold some distraction to keep her from thinking about her mother. Then she looked at the ceiling, but it held no distraction, either. Finally she met Topaz’s eyes and allowed herself a quiet breath. “I miss her very much.”  
“I understand.” It was not kind, not feeling. Not gentle, nor soothing. But it was a sentiment (Y/N) couldn’t let slip by.  
They took the stairs in the back of the kitchen hall to the Grandmaster’s room, where Topaz took her stance at the door and motioned for (Y/N) to enter, which she did promptly.  
The Grandmaster was pacing restlessly from side to side like a panther in a red-and-gold gilded cage, but upon his empathetic rose entering the room, he stopped and regarded her with his strangely luminescent eyes.  
“(Y/F/N),” He said, and then sighed, shook his head, and relaxed into a more humbling figure. Where the anxious panther once strode, there was now a sorrowful old man approaching her. “(Y/N). I’m sorry it’s so early. I- hah, well. You were probably getting your beauty sleep.” He looked at the bed longingly. “I, uh, I wish I could say the same. Your ancestor is keeping me awake, it seems.”  
“Visions?” (Y/N) asked quietly.  
“Memories.” The Grandmaster nodded, as if to reassure himself that the last few hours were indeed real. “Yes, yes. Memories. Now- before those get cold…”  
“Oh, yes.” (Y/N) glided meekly over to the large nightstand and placed the tray there, bringing back one of the warmed mugs for her king to consume. “Made specially with crimson plioves, for the natural sleep-inducing element.”  
“Indeed?” He peered curiously into the mug for a moment, before sipping lightly at it. “Delicious as always, my dear. You, ah...you truly, truly...have a gift.”  
“Thank you, your highness.” Stifling a kitten-sized yawn, (Y/N) undid the knot in her shawl and allowed her hair to sweep forward.  
“Oh, my.” With a light smile, he sipped more, and admired the shimmering pink figure in front of him. “I don’t think- wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your veil before. You know, you are beautiful, just like your ancestral mother.” He watched her carefully, for any sign of familiarity. She held her chin as high as she dared in his presence and smoothed out the wrinkles in her nightgown, draping her shawl across her shoulders. The Grandmaster stepped forward to take gentle hold of some strands of her hair.  
She stared him down like he knew she would—(Y/F/N) had always done that, had challenged him with her marbled eyes like a wild dog baring its teeth at the barrel of a hunting rifle. But this dog, however nervous it may have been, was tamed by time and society.  
“Beautiful,” He breathed, absolutely taken by her lace-patterned jaw and moon-kissed hair. “Absolutely beautiful.”  
She allowed him a moment’s glance longer, and then her eyes softened just the slightest bit.  
“Your highness,” (Y/N) intoned just barely above a whisper, “You must go to bed. The plioves are working, and you should have no trouble falling asleep now.”  
He looked down and realized that without thinking, he had drained his mug of the sweet, smooth drink that she had prepared. How long had he been standing there, admiring how much she reminded him of his long-lost friend?  
“Don’t worry,” She took him by the elbow as courteously and as lightly as possible and guided him towards the rumpled bed covers he had left hours and hours ago. “It will still wear off before dawn.”  
His vision began to blur with sleep, and the Grandmaster climbed into bed as delicately as an old man with arthritis might. But when his precious rose went to leave the room and bring Topaz the other mug of pruciper milk, he grabbed hold of her hand and implored her to stay.  
“I must tell you something,” he mumbled sleepily, and she bent down to listen, her hair tickling the sides of his face.  
“What is it?”

Topaz looked intrigued to see (Y/N) come out of the room about 45 minutes later with a strange expression and one mug left of the heated milk mixture.  
“And who’s that for?”  
“You, if you want it. But drink it near a bed. If you don’t have food in your stomach, the plioves absorb right in, and will make you extremely tired right away.”  
“What’s the matter with you? You look as if you’ve just seen me use the melt stick on one of the slaves.” Her malicious grin only lasted a second. The joke, somehow, didn’t seem worth it in the presence of this Veneik.  
“I...I don’t know. Just before he fell asleep, he took my hand and said he needed to tell me something, only I...don’t understand it.”  
“Well, what did he say?” Ignoring (Y/N)’s warning about the drink, Topaz took hold of the mug and downed about half in a good long swig. “Lord, that’s good. So sweet!”  
“He said that the sky was lonely,” She mused, tapping on her lacy jawline with a furrowed brow. “The sky is the loneliest of all.”  
Topaz shrugged. “Sometimes he doesn’t make sense. You just make sure you heed him well, now.” And with that, she yawned, and fell asleep before she hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this new installment of one of my favorite works :)  
> Love you! <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed :) Let me know what you think in the comments. Too long/short? Should I continue writing it? Any mistakes you caught? Any suggestions or specific requests? I'm all ears! Anyways, I love you, hope you're having a good day, and I'll see you in the next work! :) <3


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